Clown of the Sunken King
by Leider Hosen
Summary: What happens when you go through a depressive slump, spend 15 lives and forty minutes trying to kill a clown, and make a snarky comment at your dad that goes downhill in flames, then take all of the above and type it out.


Deep in the underground Sanctum of the Sanctum City Shulva, yet another Casul was ejected from the bonfire, hitting his face on the wall, leaving a nice imprint with the repeated face-walls.

"The Fuck is this!" He shouted, slumping down by the fire to gather his thoughts. There he was, minding his own business, when suddenly he was invaded, as was common in these parts. His attire was entirely that of a clown, with a dead, porcelain smile and gaudy robes of red and yellow, like fire, a flame glowing in each hand.

After a moment, the figure bringing his hands up and gesturing somewhat arrogantly at himself, and Casul realized who it was.

"Thomas!?" He exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

The Jester, his expression fixed, just shrugged at him. Readying his flame. The Casul raising his shield as the former companion surged forward, bringing a hand back and launching a fireball faster than even a Bluestone Ring could produce.

The fireball broke across him, smithereens and stones flying everywhere as the blast went right through his shield. He shrugged it off, standing, only for a Forbidden Sun to explode in his face, only a blinding flash visible, before the mushroom cloud appeared over Shulva, Jester Thomas diabolical laughter echoing in the distance.

The poor player returned to the fire, and tired again, but as time went on, it became apparent the Jester was no ordinary Jester.

Profound Still only caused him to produce a longsword to obliterate him. Swords barely scuffed him. Spells could not hit him. His stamina was limitless, and the Sun spam was real. Not even Climax could faze him, Thomas always ending his victories with a shrug as he faded off to cause more chaos. Once he got him down to nearly half his health, when suddenly a cluster of warmth erupted, his body healing near instantly.

"That fucking faggot is so fucking dead when I figure out how to kill him!" The player shouted, before a presence settle in by him, the player turning towards a great, meta figure.

He wore ancient, tarnished gold armor with a partly ripped blue cape, his face of no mercy a lifeless, gazing yellow mask with tears streaming through the hollow holes.

"You know little noob," he boomed "it will take a new level of gud to defeat him, he is too stronk for you, too stronk for anyone."

"What do you know?"

"Sit down faggit!" He retorted, placing a ceremonial pipe in his bearded mouth, "and I shall regale you with the tale of Jester Thomas, and why only the best of gud players can defeat him."

…

Our story begins in Aldia's manner. The Lost Sinner, the final Daughter of Chaos, was hanging out with the other less relevant undead, who shall not be named (fukn faggits). It was all fun and games until the twilight herb started roasting on an open fire, the entire party gettin stoned for a few hundred years.

The evil hammer-wielding scientists took the partiers and turned them into horrible, unpleasant looking ogres and gargoyles, however, Quelana wandered into a closet, the one place they _never _checked.

Much later, she was able to wander out of the mansion, keg in hand, up the side of a mountain, and over several rickety bridges-

"Wait a minute!" The player shouted, "She carried a _keg_, and wandered all the way through the Dragon Aerie alone?"

"Stop ruaning the story you fukn faggit!" Giantdad snapped, snorting a few ounces of black powder to restore his focus.

After traversing the Aerie for several hours, or days, awhile anyway, she passed out asleep. A dragon saw her and decided to take her to his master, carrying her the rest of the way and dropping her into the shrine, a few Drakekeepers overwatching her, but she wasn't a threat because she was passed out and stuff.

"Should we kill her?" One of the Drakekeepers requested, the Ancient Dragon yawning.

"Huh, wasat?" He sat up, retrieving his ancient Bifocals and placing them on the bridge of his ancient nose, his Ancient Dragon eyes squinting through (geddit, bcuz he was an Ancient Dragon)

He then saw it was…

….

.,.

Qualana!

The Dragon curled his lip, staring upon her ass, he then said: "Dat Ass." The Drakeepers were confused, because he was a dragon, but it was really…

…

….

Goldfish ..Y$^#$$#^

E^ER^ER^er

01101110 01100101 01110110 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100111 01110101 01101110 01101110 01100001 00100000 01100111 01101001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110101 01110000 00101100 00100000 01101110 01100101 01110110 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100111 01110101 01101110 01101110 01100001 00100000 01101100 01100101 01110100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100100 01101111 01110111 01101110 00101110

never gunna give you up, never gunna let you down…

Lord Aldia!? *What a twist!*

And he wanted to make baybeys with Quelana, unfortunately she was lost in the closet. But not anymore.

"Bring me the booty!" Aldia boomed, taking his Ancient Arthritis pills and slowly pulling himself to his feet.

"Sir, you can't do that you are a dragon!"

"No, I am Lord Aldia!" He boomed to the drakekeeper,

"I'm pretty sure you are a Dragon Sir!"

"I am 780yrs old, don't contradict me ye whipper snapper, or I'll tell you the what fuyr!" Something snapped, Aldia belly flopping on the ground, "kin ye bring her a little closer, I think I herniated somethin."

The Drakekeeper sighed, bringing him the booty…

"You are making that up!" The player barked, "He'd tear her right in two.. he weighs, what, a billion pounds!?"

"Ah, but he was really Lord Aldia!"

"That doesn't change the fact he was a fucking dragon!"

"I'm telling the strory!" He snapped, "Besides, he was really old, it probably shrunk a bit."

"It would have to be more than a bit, which it didn't because it didn't fucking happen!"

When the Ancient Dragon was finished getting freak, Quelana was safely brought back to Majala. She woke up and wondered where all the scratches came from, but dismissed it and decided to… Well I don't really know but she lived a normal Chaos Witch life, mostly brooding about her family, when she discovered she had babbys, and later sired what would one day become the chosen one…

A champion, with the body of a mortal, and the soul and fire of an Ancient Dragon.

The one they fear, in their tongue he is Dovahkiin: Dragonborn!

"That isn't even from this universe!" The player snapped, "Admit it, you are just making this up as you go along!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Giantdad retorted, gurgling his turpentine and chasing it down with a brightbug.

The baby Thomas was born partially scaly, like Aldia, and had a head like the Path of the Dragon… but way uglier, with his head all lumpy and cockeyed, one eye a little bigger than the other with a crooked maw, his tongue lolling out the side.

Because he was an unholy abomination of nature, they threw him off the cliff, when he flew back up the cliff and hit on the ledge, so they decided to put a spare sack over his head instead.

Baby Thomas was a mischievous sort, curious of the whimsical world around him, one shaking a rattle so hard it burst into lightning and killed 15. Quelana gave the chime, silver with a black dragon curled around it, to the babysitter Grandhal and told him to make sure it was never seen again, the chime abandoned in the Dark Chasm to contain its powers.

His true power came when he was about three. He loved his milk at exactly 157.9 degrees. However, one day it was served at only 157.5 degrees!

The Dragonborn was gripped with a rage unlike any he had ever experienced, suddenly exploding with fire power. He broke their house, but he discovered his power of pyromancy, and put his milk at perfect temperature.

Quelana said: "I have created a monster!" and chained herself up forever, becoming the Lost Sinner.

Due to his parents, Thomas had mastered all pyromancy in existence and invented fifteen more by age seven. He was an extraordinarily special child, more special than you could ever even imagine.

He soon grew bored of his not special life and went into the world in search of worthy opponents. He grew tired of wearing a sack and being mistaken for a "Mildred", so he went to Batman Inc. and found a spare Harley Quinn outfit, learning the art of being insane from the Joker.

"What… I… alright, just continue."

Soon, all the hollows ran in terror from his awesome power, and when he entered the Boss fog, the bosses ran away. Always enjoying the sound of milk being boiled and bones cracking on an open fire, he decided to seek out new worlds to explore. He placed his sign in a vat after burning all the poison, so only those worthy enough to drain it could call upon his power.

But, one tragic day, he was Pimpslapping Mytha with his Forbidden Sun, when a Casul host used it: Profound Still.

Thomas, for the first time in his existence, was helpless, so he chokeslammed the host and went to find one able to teach him swordsmenship. It would have to be a being even greater than he, so he searched long nad hard, before he came to a mysterious fog gate no-one had ever seen before.

He stepped through, finding himself in a dark, ancient graveyard strewn with ash and fallen debris of all kinds. At the far corner was a decrepit, broken machine from another realm, a figure crouched upon it.

Sensing blood, the ancient, dark warrior stood, breaking vines and foliage that had begun to overtake him. He was enormous, nearly ten feet tall with massive shoulders, clad in immense, rough armor of iron, but beneath the thick green tarnish and soot, there was only more blackness. His shield was similarly immense, the rusty greatsword he bore over his shoulder broken at the tip, as his own power was so great he broke it.

A deep, metal chorus sounded, the healthbar appearing at the bottom as they chanted:

"Die waffen, legt… AN!"

The Old Black Iron Knight threw his head back in a battlecry: "TARKUUUUUUUUS!"

He sprung upon the Jester with lightning speed, his sword blowing several stone columns in half and putting a trench in the ground. Thomas attempted to flame him as he had flamed so many, but Tarkus sprung from the flames unaffected, Ramming his sword all the way through the Jester, hauling him up to eye level, a single foggy, yet lucid eye focusing on his through the fluted helmet as Thomas crumbled.

"Soviet Power Supreme."

Long did they fight, Thomas getting rekt every time, but each time, his swordsmenship improved, until he left the battlefield with one quadrillionth of the power of Tarkus, more than enough to rekt everything in Drangleic.

With his newfound power, Jester Thomas became unstoppable, proving his absolute dominance by entering Raime's boss fog… wearing Velstadt's helmet.

With his sword, he parried Raime's Giga Fume Breaker back at him, a feat so awesome, Raime committed honorable suicide, Thomas teabagging the corpse of Nadalia just to be sure.

Eventually, he grew bored of helping mere Casuls, and instead decided he would become an invader. He needed all the Red Eye orbs, and went to the Purgatory to get them. Titchy Gren said:

"You can have some but not all of them!" So Jester Thomas kicked him so hard in the crotch he exploded into Red eye orbs, filling the hole undead hunter copse gorge, everything he could ever want.

"So you see." Gaintdad concluded, "You must ascend to another plane of gud before you can ever hope to Vanquish Jester Thomas, the destroyer of worlds, reker oif hosts, Dragonborn of… Dragons." He looked over, seeing the player had fallen asleep, giving him a backstab from the Zwei base cannon and giving a good old "Well, what is it?" (welcome is shit) and returning to his realm.

====Meanwhile====

"You killed my father!" Thomas shouted as his blue soulsaber clashed with Aldia's red soulsaber, the crash sending lightning across the sky,

"No sunny, I am your father!" Aldia boomed,

"That's not true, that's… you're a dragon, that explains a lot but how?" He conceded, the blue lazor vanishing, the Ancient Dragon blushing.

"I'm ovr 8o0yrs old, I'm not the unliving Dragon Demigod I used to be."

Le gasp! It was true all along?! Much Plot! Such Twist! Wow!


End file.
